Undertale: Redemption
by Specimen 12
Summary: Years have passed since the Monster's return to the surface. A stranger claims to hold the key to Asriel's freedom. Was he the only thing to escape the mountain? Are there new enemies threatening to destroy everything they've built? Will Flowey ever seek out his revenge? And will Frisk be enough to save them all this time around?
1. Chapter 1

_Just as a disclaimer, I'd like to inform you all that I do not own Undertale or anything related to Undertale…a fact that saddens me deeply._

* * *

 **Undertale: Redemption**

 **Chapter 1: Beyond the Mountain**

It had been three years since the seal had been broken. Three surprisingly short years, despite everything that had happened. Political tensions, financial incompatibilities (although, the gold did fetch a pretty good price on the human market) and, of course, no shortage of problems integrating with human society. Given the less-than-subtle first impressions, courtesy of Papyrus and Undyne, it came as a genuine shock (and obviously a massive relief) that someone didn't get hurt. The locals were definitely scared, but not hurt.

The speed at which things had developed was impressive to say the least. Homes came first, naturally, along with a name: 'Newer Home', followed by a new Grillby's and MTT deluxe hotel…all within the first week or so. With Sans and Toriel working together with Frisk as ambassadors, negotiations with the neighbouring towns went well. Shortly after, Monsters and Humans were living side by side. There was some level of discomfort at first. After all, modern Humans didn't even know about the Mount Ebott legend, and Monsters had been led to believe that Humans were violent psychopaths (Frisk, however, was more than aware that this was true for one or two select individuals).

Things have been mixed since then, however. While the local townships were accepting of Monsterkind, the wider Human populace was a little less so. Major world leaders acted on their fears and sanctioned the Monsters' efforts to expand, some even proposing a means of physically blocking them off from the rest of the world. People elsewhere are uncertain of what to think regarding the mountain's denizens, leading to division amongst the Humans…much to both Toriel and Asgore's displeasure. They knew what led to the last devastating war with first hand intimacy. How things were going so far in the wider world might not be hostile, but it was definitely unsettling.

Still, things on a local scale were pretty fantastic. Everyone was where they had always wanted to be, doing the things they always said they would. Papyrus spent his days 'NYAH HAH HAH'ing down the highways in his car, Undyne and Alphys are living together and showing the world what a perfect couple _really_ looks like, Toriel and Asgore are…well, still working things out but at least no fireballs are involved now and Sans gets to lay back and relax as the sun bleaches his bones…so not really a massive change there...

…And Frisk?

Let's just say things are complicated. On the outside, she's the same, smiling child that everyone knows and loves. But on the inside, she's a nervous wreck. RESET after RESET, vivid memories of violence and death…and Chara. If anything scared her most out of everything that manifested in the mountain, it was Chara. She'd already possessed her once before, and every time Frisk would RESET, there was the very real, very dangerous risk that the little psycho would come back. If she ever did…Frisk didn't think she'd be able to stop her again. And if that wasn't bad enough, there was Flowey. The annoying little yellow flower never left the mountain when everyone else did. He, and Asriel by default, were still down there…somewhere…plotting. Not to mention her role as ambassador to Humankind on behalf of Newer Home. She was pretty much responsible for the diplomatic issues involved with integrating an entire people to a world notorious for being unaccepting of others. It was a huge burden…but being mentally many years older than her body, Frisk took it her stride like a real Heroine would.

The ride hasn't been smooth, and probably won't be for a long time yet, but they're getting there…slowly but surely…hopefully…


	2. The Man With Three Eyes

_Ok, so…time for another chapter. People might have thought that the first one was a bit short, but as I'm sure you've all gathered, it was just the prologue so all the interesting, mystery-ey, horror-ey, action-ey and bad pun-ey goodness starts here. As always, constructive criticism is always appreciated but if you like the story so far, don't be shy to leave a few words. And please, no flamers._

* * *

 **Chapter 2: The Stranger with The Third Eye…**

It was the beginning of Spring. The late-night freezing showers and bright morning sun leaving a gentle, somewhat mystifying foggy residue on the horizon, lingering just at the foot of Mount Ebott and swirling throughout the woodlands. Gentle rays of sunlight seemed to breathe life into the rather compacted town, filling the streets with a hushed mid-morning bustle.

Frisk, now ten years of age, woke with a short yawn and outstretched her arms until her joints popped satisfyingly. Turning to her window, she squinted a little as the light hit her eyes. She liked the view from her window in the morning, even if it did hurt her eyes at first. I kind of reminded her of seeing Asgore's castle from the caverns in Waterfall, but the rays of light caressing the surface of the buildings made it a significantly less intimidating sight. A soft knock on her room door made Frisk turn her head with a confused, half-asleep 'hrm?'. Toriel poked her head in and smiled with the same motherly warmth she always did.

"Good morning, my child. Sorry if I woke you. Would you like some breakfast?" she asked. Frisk rubbed her eyes and nodded her head, giving out another little yawn.

"It's ok…and sure." She replied, hopping out of bed and landing into a pair of purple slippers. Toriel smiled a little more and slipped back out of the room, leaving the door just a touch ajar. Frisk enjoyed life here. It was certainly better than living off the streets like she had been prior to falling into the ruins. Toriel made for a great mother figure…if not a little smothering at times. Asgore, despite his less than amazing first impressions on the youngster and living on the other side of town, actually emulated his ex-wife's manners; wide and meaningful smiles, a borderline smothering fatherly figure, not to mention their shared love for bad jokes, often courtesy of everyone's favourite skeleton. All in all, Frisk had never felt so loved in her life.

Throwing on a fresh purple-and-blue striped jumper and a pair of light brown cargo shorts, Frisk made her way downstairs and into dining room, immediately being greeted by the smell of freshly baked pancakes, covered with maple syrup and a dollop of sweet cream. Even though Toriel hadn't had all too much experience with human foodstuffs, she was already a self-taught gourmand as far as most humans would be concerned…including Frisk. Sure enough, the pancakes were delicious. It was a bit weird when Toriel placed a snail on top of her stack, but then again, escargot is a rather acquired taste.

If being a great mother wasn't enough, Toriel also made for a great teacher, and not just to Monster kids, but to the Human ones too. Sure, for the most part they attended separate classes, but they each had to learn different things…namely history and cultural studies. In fact, she ran the place so well, there was little need to hire any more tutors. Initially, her second would have been Asgore, but with him being too wrapped up in the political side of things to get the time to help, she called upon Alphys to take up the role, which she did with surprisingly little reluctance (perhaps Undyne's go-get-'em attitude was starting to rub off on her a little after all).

Following school came Frisk's daily paperwork. Any normal ten-year-old girl would be stumped by almost everything there, but then again, normal ten-year-old girls couldn't rewind time at will. If nothing else, the ability to RESET proved useful for developing mental acuity years past one's physical form. Also, having a centuries old (though you wouldn't think of it looking at her) Queen of Monsters as a foster-mom didn't hurt either. Both factors rendered a little political paperwork mere child's play. All in all, today played out virtually the same way every other day did.

It wasn't until evening that something began to feel…off. Like something big had just happened, although Frisk couldn't quite put her finger on it. But she could definitely feel it. Right down in her bones. The suddenness of it all was unnerving. Very few things had ever left her feeling like this, and few of them were even remotely good. Toriel, who was sitting in her armchair reading a Human history book, looked up at the distressed youngster.

"Frisk?" she started, lowering her book a little so she could see better. "You seem troubled, child. Is something wrong?" It wasn't the first time she'd had to ask a similar question to the young girl and every time she did, the paranoia of herself or the Monsters in general being the issue was almost evident in her very body language. She might seem strong on the surface, but too many bad experiences with children had left her somewhat fearful. Frisk gulped to rid herself of the lump in her throat and looked at Toriel, visibly shaken.

"Didn't you feel that?" Frisk asked, pulling her legs up onto her seat and hugging them close to her chest to stop herself from shivering. "Something's really, _really_ wrong." Toriel placed her book down gently and made her way over, quickly embracing the child in a soft hug, immediately feeling how tense her charge was.

"What on Earth could have gotten you so frightened, my child?" Toriel queried, giving the room a quick once-over to make sure there wasn't something lurking in the corners of the room…a certain talking yellow flower, for example. Nothing.

"The l-last time I felt like th-this was…" the youngster stuttered out. Toriel held her tighter and nuzzled her cheek affectionately in an attempt to console her.

"Was what, dearest?" There was a pause as Frisk turned to her foster-mother, the fear clearly showing in her eyes.

"…Asriel." Came the answer. Toriel swore her heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name. She remembered what had happened when Flowey consumed the Human souls and resurrected her son as a hideous demon, but it couldn't be possible for him to have done it again. Then again…the barrier was gone, he was still alive and there would be more than enough Humans to feed himself with. Part of her wanted to say that it was impossible, but in reality…it was very possible. She had to bear seeing her deceased son being used as a weapon once before, but to do so again would likely break her will. That's not including Asgore…who had already snapped under the strain once before. The goat-like Queen of Monsters broke her embrace on Frisk and looked her in the eye.

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" Frisk nodded, but looked away as if in some level of thought. And that she was. Yes, something was wrong _and_ it had something to do with Asriel Dreemurr, but precisely what it had to do with him…she wasn't sure. She felt his presence, but not his malice and malcontent. It was more like she was channelling his fear…and something else? Something that made Frisk's heart beat faster and forced adrenaline through her veins. Whatever it was, it was terrifying.

Toriel wasn't sure what to make of the child's expression. She almost seemed confused, but the heat emanating from her body almost suggested that Frisk was in a state of panic. Lost for an explanation, Toriel decided it would be best to call for some advice. She'd remembered Sans giving her his number and telling her to call if anything came up not long after work on Newer Home began, so that's precisely what she did. She'd barely made it half way though his number when there was a knock on the door. Toriel seeing a more present opportunity for help, placed the phone down and answered the door. When she opened it, there was Sans, dressed in some rather childishly themed pyjamas, despite it not even being dark yet.

"Hey Tori. What's up?" he asked, rubbing his eye socket and yawning quietly. He tipped his head to the side and looked at Frisk, cured up on the couch and shivering. "You too, huh?" Toriel moved aside to let the skeleton in and raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean by 'you too'?" she asked, closing the door behind herself. "What's going on?" Sans shrugged and walked over to Frisk, leaning in and looking into her eyes.

"I dunno…" he replied bluntly, "…but somethin' big just went down somewhere. Lots of magic involved too. Not the bad stuff though." He clarified. Toriel sighed a sigh of relief internally, thankful that it didn't seem to be something malicious.

"So…you don't know what it is either? I didn't feel anything." Toriel said, once again wrapping her arms around Frisk in an attempt to console her. Sans grinned and winked at the goat-like Queen.

"It takes a certain kinda someone to sense these things, y'know? Just so happens that kiddo here's one of 'em. Don't sweat it, she'll be fine in a little bit. Just takes some gettin' used to is all." Toriel had no idea how Sans knew things like this, but she nodded anyway, still a little uncertain of what was really going on. She gave Frisk a soft smile and lifted her up off the couch with little effort.

"It's alright, my child. Perhaps you should simply get some rest." She said, her motherly tone coming back again despite her uncertainty. She turned to Sans and frowned a little. "I'm so sorry for bothering you like this."

"Oh, it's nothin', Tori." He responded casually. "I'll keep watch over the kid tonight…just in case somethin' does come up…if you want?" Toriel smiled at his offer with a slight chuckle. Sans and Frisk were as thick as thieves sometimes, so she was pretty sure Sans was just using that as an excuse to hang out with his friend.

"That would be very kind of you, Sans. Thank you." The skeleton turned and winked at her again, giving her a thumbs up.

"Any time, Tori."

After making their way upstairs and setting Frisk down on her bed, Toriel left as to not worry the others, leaving Frisk and Sans in each other's company. The skeleton sighed and looked over at the young girl. He could understand why _he_ could sense something happening, but for Frisk to feel it too? There must be something connecting her soul to all of this and if past experiences were anything to go by, that often wasn't a good sign. His trail of thought was interrupted when Frisk sat upright and leaned her back against the bed, rocking it slightly. Taking a page from Toriel's book, Sans put on his signature grin to help Frisk feel at ease.

"Yo Frisk. How ya' feelin'?" he chimed. There was a little pause between the two as Frisk tried to readjust to her surroundings.

"It's ok. I think it's over now." She replied, still feeling a shiver sneak up her spine, but nothing like what she was experiencing just a few minutes ago. Sans stopped to think to himself for a second, then clicked his fingers.

"Yeah…whatcha' know. It cleared itself up." He smiled, but Frisk still seemed on edge. Again, an air of silence filed the room. "So, uh…wanna stay up all night playing videogames?" he continued, a genuine grin spreading over his face when Frisk perked up at his suggestion.

"Really? Sure! That sounds awesome!" she responded eagerly, almost jumping to her feet in anticipation. "Well…it would be if I had any cool games. Mo…Toriel doesn't like me playing anything violent." Sans chuckled and reached into his pyjama shirt.

"No worries. Y'know me…" he said, pulling out a couple of videogames, the cases emblazoned with pictures of explosions and gun-toting heroes. "…I've always got a contingency plan."

Everything about the next morning was off. The air was heavy and damp. The soft blanket of mist from the last day had transformed into a dense fog that obscured the surrounding countryside and blocked out the already limited sunlight thanks to the large, grey clouds standing between the sun and the Earth.

Both Sans and Frisk were uneasy. Last night's omen seemed grim, and the sudden change in climate didn't do much to reassure them. Toriel had picked up on this during breakfast and, despite their differences, called Asgore. If something destructive was indeed on its way to Newer Home, it would be best if he, and his most loyal subjects by default, knew about it. It didn't take long for him to arrive at Toriel's home, followed closely by Undyne. With little more than a point from the King's finger, the royal guard-turned-police officer ran off towards the main road, energy spear in hand.

The whole group stayed on alert for hours, watching the weather around them continue to get worse. Sans and Frisk were keeping busy by cloud watching, Undyne had gotten tired of hopping from roof to roof and was now lounging on someone's balcony, much to their annoyance. No explanation needed as to the tension between Toriel and Asgore. It was strange that, even with this omen of danger, nothing had happened. But there was no denying the atmosphere. Something was _definitely_ coming, and if Sans' rarely seen expression of unease was anything, it was a sign that it was close.

…and then it happened…

The world seemed to go silent, save for the distant whistle of the wind passing by the mountain. Still, something did catch Undyne's eye, if only faintly. If there was one thing a lifetime of being on the hunt was good for, it was the sharp refinement of one's senses. When the faint figure in the fog began to become clearer, she re-summoned her spear and jumped down to ground level.

"Look who finally decided to show up." She called, beckoning the others over. The figure in the distance continued to make its way closer, enough so that the group could now clearly make out a single, humanoid individual wearing a hooded cloak which whipped around in the breeze. Its lack of scale almost made Undyne laugh aloud. _This_ was the big threat? Some scrawny guy in a big coat? Are you kidding!? Frisk cocked her head at the figure as it passed out of the fog entirely, undeterred by the gathered group.

"I thought it'd be…bigger…or something." She whispered to Sans, who gave her an embarrassed smile.

"Uh…oops, I guess?" he laughed with a shrug. He, Frisk and Undyne might not have been too concerned with the intruder, but the King and Queen were still very much on alert. After all, flowers are also small and unassuming. Ultimately, however, there wasn't anything they could do until they knew who…or what…they were dealing with. If they attacked now, they could end up hurting or killing an innocent. Then again, if it was hostile, they were putting themselves and everyone else at a huge risk. Asgore raised his hand and turned his head to Undyne.

"Give it a warning shot." He ordered, dropping his hand in a 'open fire' manner. Undyne grinned widely and with a mighty swing, launched her energy spear towards the figure's feet…in impressive performance given the hundred or so metres between them and the target. Silence fell as everyone watched the spear arc through the air towards the intruder, completely blank as to what might happen.

The flash of blue magic took everyone by complete surprise. The cloaked figure suddenly warping two feet away from Undyne was markedly more so. Asgore summoned his trident, Toriel readied her fire spell and Sans even summoned one of his gaster-balsters. Undyne, now unarmed, forrowed her brow and stuck her face into its own. The intruder didn't even flinch.

"I must speak with the King and Queen." It said, raising its head to reveal two sunken eye sockets harbouring a pair of striking blue orbs and a third, closed eye oriented on its side upon its forehead. Undyne grimaced and looked the creature straight in the eyes.

"Over. My. Dead. Body." She explained in no uncertain terms. She went to poke the intruder in the chest, but found her arm being grasped by two of the intruders…from the same side.

"I insist." It continued, gently pushing back Undyne's arm. "It's about their son…"


	3. Knows Everything

_Howdy, folks! Hope that last chapter left you wanting for more, 'cause there's plenty more on its way! (This one's going to be a loooooooong chapter). Again, please feel free to leave your feedback. Constructive criticisms are always welcome (God knows, I could probably use some). Well…all that's left to say is…Please enjoy!_

* * *

 **Chapter 3: …Knows Everything  
**

"I insist. It's about their son…" Those words stopped both of the royals in their tracks, the look on their faces emulating something along the lines of shellshock. Even Undyne had to take a moment of pause for the information to sink in. Toriel was the first to snap out of her stupor, stepping forwards and dispelling her fiery defence.

"If you have any information on my son, please…tell us." She responded, her past experience with diplomacy becoming evident. The turned to face her, letting go of Undyne's arm.

"Do not worry, your Majesty…" came the reply as it unfolded another pair of arms out from under its cloak and pressing its hands over its heart. "…I can assure you that he is quite safe."

Just what was this creature implying with its body language? Surely it was impossible to think that _it_ was now in possession of Asriel's soul. Much to everyone's dismay, that honour belonged to Flowey. Asgore frowned, not entirely convinced by the stranger's words. He pointed his trident at its face and loomed over it, the red light from his weapon only adding to his intimidation factor.

"If you jest, I'll cut you down where you stand." He almost growled uncharacteristically. Just like it had from the beginning, the stranger stood his ground, completely unfazed. It bowed towards the King respectfully.

"Perhaps we should find somewhere more private, my liege. There, I will explain everything to you."

In all honesty, the stranger had been hoping to speak with the King and Queen alone. But, he supposed, having the foresight to bring an entourage was indeed a wise move. After all, he _was_ an unknown element, not to mention the bombshell he'd dropped on their heads just minutes earlier. It made sense that they'd be cautious…if not a little more hostile than he'd anticipated.

The building he had been led to was quaint and homely. Everything here exuded an air of hospitality he wasn't exactly used to. His hands were bound and he was sat into a chair with cushioning so soft that for a moment he was a little concerned he'd be consumed by the furniture. To his left was the Undyne, the one who bound him, leaning against the wall shooting him an unimpressed scowl. To his right was Sans who, as you might imagine, was busy doing what he always did; nothing. For the first time in what seemed like forever, Toriel and Asgore sat side-by-side on the couch, staring at their charge with an intensity that made the four-armed, three-eyed guest feel like he might spontaneously combust at any moment. Toriel made the first move, leaning forwards and looking her guest in the eyes with an expression that could cause an army to turn into a sorry, weeping wreck.

"We have done as you asked. Please, you must tell us what you know of our Asriel." She pleaded. Her voice was soft and collected, and while it was obvious that she was desperate for answers, the plea came out almost like a casual question. The stranger nodded in response. This could prove to be a very long day…

* * *

 _ **Centuries ago, Date: unknown…**_

He'd watched it all happening from his barn. He'd been attending to his father's livestock when this little thing just wandered into the village. In its arms was the lifeless body of a human child. Sure, at first he was afraid of the creature that had suddenly appeared, but when he noticed the tears streaming down its emotionally broken visage, he couldn't help but feel sorry for it. He'd heard the tales of creatures in the mountain, but had never paid them any thought until now. The legends _were_ true, it would seem.

He watched silently as the small, goat-like creature lay the child down just at the village entrance. It was harrowing…watching the poor thing drop to its knees and sob. His mind was torn between going to console the creature and raising the alarm. Ultimately, he had no time to do either. There was a terrified cry from further inside the village, with people running out to see what was happening and coming across the scene outside.

There was some hushed muttering…which seemed normal given the situation. Then it escalated in volume. Voices were raised. They turned into panicked, if not anger-fuelled shouts. They escalated again and turned into angry demands and threats, hurled at the small creature with significant venom. What happened next…there's no words that could describe the horror. The crowd of villagers descended upon the creature and beat it with ferocity. The sound of sticks and planks breaking because of the sheer brute force used in the attack was, frankly, sickening. When the villagers were done, the crowd dispersed, leaving the bloodied goat-like biped struggling to his feet in what would most certainly be extreme pain.

He watched as it limped back towards the mountain, drops of blood marking its trail home. He was disgusted, but not with the creature. What he had just witnessed made it clear that the local description of the Mount Ebott legend was utterly false. Monsters didn't start the great war of old. Humans did. They were, and evidently still were, violent and depraved. His blood boiled and his mind raced. Why would they do such a thing? It wasn't even fighting back! Could they not tell that it was a child itself, or did they simply not care!? He screamed out and threw his equipment at the wall. How could they? What gave them the right to such hatred?

He threw open the doors to his family barn and chased after the creature, the shouts of the villagers behind him being ignored. He followed the trail of blood to the base of the mountain until it led to a deep cave. He could not see the creature in the darkness, nor could he hear its crying. He was scared of entering the mountain as there was no telling what dwelt within, but his fears that the battered being might have succumbed to its wounds was stronger. He had to press on, for its sake. With a deep breath, he mustered the courage to enter.

Inside, the world seemed to change dramatically. He was no longer shrouded in darkness. The light of the magical barrier behind him reflecting from the walls was impressive, illuminating hundreds of metres down a long, clearly constructed hallway. And there was the blood trail again, jolting him back into reality and reminding him of why he came here. So, he continued to follow it farther…and deeper into the mountain, his timid footsteps echoing down the hallway as if deliberately trying to announce his presence to every denizen of this place. Then there was a shriek, not one that signalled danger. This was a shriek of pure terror.

He knew, deep down, what had happened. Whoever or whatever the creature had been trying to reach had found it. By the wailing that followed, it was clear that the creature's fate was grim. His heart sank as he continued to listen, not daring to inch closer. Had he watched on and done nothing as his neighbours beat this child into a tragically early grave? Had he _chosen_ to let it die, without even knowing it? He felt sick. His legs shook, his joints teetered on buckling and his lungs hurt with every hyperventilated breath. He could have done something… _should_ have done something! The villagers may have beaten the poor creature, but _he_ had killed it through his cowardly inaction. If he'd just consoled the thing when he had the chance, none of this would have happened.

…what had he done…?

He crumpled against the wall and buried his face in his arms, unable to stop himself from quietly weeping along with the distraught voices at the end of the hallway. He couldn't believe what he'd been a part of. As the crying continued on, it became clear that there was a connection between the victim and the grieving creatures…likely family. That just made things worse. Now he was here…what now? Should he just leave, or should he go to them and apologise for what happened? Honestly…neither option seemed like it would make a difference. The aftermath of something on this scale would probably end with even more death. That said, if he could convince them to kill him instead of the villagers, he could prevent a disaster _and_ give them someone to blame.

He paused and thought to himself, wiping the tears from his eyes. Morbidly, it made sense. Closing his eyes, he prayed silently to any god that would listen for this to work. Lifting himself to his feet, he gulped and timidly made his way to the end of the hallway, following the trail of blood spots until the turned off into what seemed to be a garden. An empty one, at that. No crying parents, no dead child…just a whole garden of nothing but yellow flowers. He ventured into the brightly coloured foliage and kept his eyes open. He could still see sporadic spots of blood, the deep red contrasting with the overall brightness of the plant life. He was surprised when it stopped, a small pile of coarse dust at its end. It couldn't be…could it? Did they burn the body or did it disintegrate? No wonder there's no evidence of the old war if this is what happens when they die.

Well…this shot his plan in the foot. He didn't know whether to be relieved or distraught. He took a moment to calm down and knelt next to the small dust pile. He wanted to say sorry, but the words wouldn't leave his mouth…like something inside was telling he was unworthy of doing so. So he sat in what he believed was a deserved silence.

' _No…'_

He sighed and glanced over to what was once the young, goat-like creature. Something in the back of his mind sent a shiver down his spine.

'… _you did this…you owe him!'_

He furrowed his brow as the feeling began to spread. He could almost feel it wash over his entire mind like a wave. Gritting his teeth, he placed his hand over the pile.

' _He didn't deserve to die! You could have saved him!'_

He cupped some of the dust I his hand and let it pour through his fingers. Something made him feel…alive. Determined. The adrenaline pumped through his blood as he balled his other hand into a fist and pounded the ground.

' _Remember where you are, boy! You're in the legendary world of Monsters. Maybe…you still can…'_

He rose to his feet, fuelled by a feeling that was indescribable. His blood boiled, but not in anger. His muscles stiffened, his breathing was hard and fast. The voice in the back of mind was right. He was in a world that was supposed to be filled with outlandish people, medicines…and even magic. Sure, there were human magicians famed for incredible feats, but nothing like what could be accomplished in this realm. Time for a change of plan…

* * *

 _ **One month later…**_

Progress with his plan had gone virtually non-existent. After the death of his son, the King of Monsters declared a state of war with the surface. As a human, things had become difficult by default. Everyone had their eyes open. Getting into public spaces was near impossible…which meant he couldn't study what magics the underground had to offer first-hand, though the second-hand experiences had proved to be very insightful. That's not to say he didn't get his hands on anything. He'd managed to pilfer a bunch of old scrolls the last time he 'visited' the library. The instructions to the spells within were very straightforward, though some may have been a touch dangerous for his needs. He needed to blend in, and fast! Thankfully, there was a spell just for that. A few of the details were a bit vague, but it seemed doable.

Slinking off into a nearby alley, he unfurled the scroll and placed it on the ground, holding it down with some rocks. Following its instructions, he calmly closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. It said to focus on your deepest emotions; the ones that make you who you are. He felt strength, not unlike what he'd felt in the garden. He felt fear, but not overwhelming fear. He felt sadness, the memories of recent events swirling as if to drag him to them. Then he felt…warmth. It was gentle and constant, like a campfire nearing the end of its life. Opening his eyes again, he marvelled at the sight. A small, light-blue heart hovered just inches away from his face. His soul. It was…captivating.

But this was just the first step on the conjuring of this spell. Next came something far less pleasant. In order to blend in with Monster-kind, he would have to chain his soul. Restrain it and lock it away, and limit its power so it emulates the weaker Monster souls. There was something on the scroll that referred to one's appearance, saying that Monsters would not be capable of perceiving one's true form. This was perfect. This would give him the opportunity to collect information at a more reliable level.

He reclosed his eyes and focused. Over and over, he told himself in his mind that the soul before him was no longer who he was. He willed change with every ounce of strength he had. What felt like something tugging at his chest jolted him back to reality. There was a chain, bathed in blue flame, protruding from his chest and wrapped around the floating heart. He smiled in amazement and closed his eyes again, trying to emulate what he'd just done. One after another, chains tangled around his soul and dragged it closer to his body. He could feel himself get weaker as more of his soul was bound, but he was determined to make this work. He had to make this work.

Suddenly, his soul gave out. In a split moment, the chains hauled it back into his body. A most unpleasant experience. What followed was more so. His insides burned and his body felt like it would tear itself apart. He dropped to all fours as the pain intensified, a tortured cry inadvertently escaping as he felt something spread through his veins like acid. There was no time for respite before he was bathed in magical fire. Unsurprisingly, it felt like being bathed in the real thing. He could feel himself being torn away and replaced with something else. Surely this couldn't be the spell he had cast. Perhaps he'd performed the ritual wrongly. Whether he had or not, it felt like he was dying. And then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

His body rippled in the aftermath of agony. Whatever he'd done, it didn't feel like he'd _just_ concealed himself. He struggled to his feet and regained his composure as best he could, grasping at his aching head as he tried to fight through the pain.

"Yo, buddy! Y'all right over there?" came a gruff voice from the alley entrance. The cry of pain he let escape had unfortunately attracted some attention. He turned and looked at the local who was calling for him. It was a short, stocky, pig-like creature with long, curled tusks protruding from its bottom jaw, wearing what seemed to be a butcher's apron. He raised his hand to the creature dismissively, losing his balance slightly and falling against the wall. The porcine creature jogged into the alley and took him by the shoulder.

"Man, you don't look so hot." It said, helping pull the pained man back to his feet. "Come on, I'll get you a seat inside."

"Please…I-I'm fine, I just…" he stopped and looked at his arm as the creature led him towards his shop's entrance. More accurately, he looked at his arms. Two of them. On the same side. He panicked and stumbled backwards, falling to the floor and almost dragging the helpful shop owner down with him. He looked to his other arm and noticed the same abnormality. The butcher hobbled over and picked him back up.

"Jeez! Take it easy, kid." It exclaimed, chuckling a little afterwards in hindsight. "You a vegetarian or somethin'?" The creature took hold of his arm again and began leading him towards the shop once more. "Say…I ain't seen you around these parts before. What's your name, kid?" it continued.

"Uh…my name…?" the post-human replied sheepishly. The porcine turned to him and raised its eyebrow with confusion.

"Yeah, your name. Y'know…that thing that people call you by. Gee, you got a name, right?" He didn't want to admit it, but the creature's clever quips would have made him laugh in any other circumstance.

"Franklin…" he replied, a smile spreading across his face at finally being able to open up to someone down here. "…my name's Franklin."

* * *

 _ **Several centuries later…**_

It had taken some time to get used to his new body. Imagine his shock when he realised his upper appendages weren't the only things that had changed; sunken eye sockets harbouring two small, captivatingly bright blue eyes, a third, normal looking, sideways-oriented eye on his forehead. The feature that would take him the longest to get used to was his face. It had vanished, a blank, featureless silhouette being all that remained. He had no idea how he could still speak without a mouth, but he'd accepted that he was a being beyond human perception now.

Having four arms came with as many disadvantages as they did uses. They did, however, prove invaluable when he went to work in the library. It was the perfect cover…and was a golden opportunity to study as much as he could regarding the Monster's knowledge of magics. Relevant data was almost always fractured, marred by centuries of conjecture or mentioned only in less-than-reliable legends.

He finalised a plan after studying the history behind the Monster/Human war. He discovered that Monsters could absorb Human souls, granting them incredible power. He also discovered that the dust of deceased 'Boss Monsters', when introduced to an object (or individual), would transfer their soul. He theorised that, if he could learn how to absorb a foreign soul, he could absorb the soul of the royal heir; the boy who had died so many years before; and try to find a way to revive him.

Even after hundreds of years, Franklin had virtually no clue how to forcefully part something from its soul. He'd tried every method from every book, scroll and tablet, testing them on small animals that had wandered into the cave. There were very few options left available to him. He could enlist the help of the royal scientist, though she _was_ rumoured to be a little…aloof with her research. Gods forbid, he could try and get an audience with the King himself, granting Franklin unlimited resources and access to highly sensitive material. No…perhaps that was a little _too_ optimistic, even for him.

The last option was a great deal simpler, and a great deal more complicated at the same time. There was a chance, however small, that if he caused damage to the flowerbed where the royal heir had died, it might release his soul and give Franklin the opportunity he needed to absorb it himself. But the royal gardens were off limits to civilians. Trying to sneak in and damage them was outright foolish, if not suicidal. But Franklin had a promise to keep. He needed to make things right before people started getting killed. He was astonished that, for all of this time, nothing of the sort had yet happened. It seemed strange, but it was a welcomed relief to know that he still had some time.

On second thought, maybe an audience with the King was the only _real_ option here. His reputation _was_ that of a kind-hearted pushover. Franklin sighed and cupped his head in his four hands. It wasn't the idea of meeting the King that was making him hesitate, though. It was the thought of how he'd react when Franklin told him who and what he really was. There was every possibility that revealing himself could result in an execution. He would have to tread extremely carefully. Franklin dropped his two lower arms down from his head and fidgeted, trying to piece together what he'd say. One wrong move and the last few hundred years would have meant nothing.

Minutes turned into hours. Beads of sweat began to form on his head as the strained his mind to create a successful scenario, but to no avail. All of them ended badly, either for him of for the kid. No. He had to come clean. He had to face up to his past and trust that he'd be given a chance rectify the mistakes that marred it. Franklin slapped his hands down on his desk and jumped to his feet. If he was going to do this, now was the time. After all, he was several centuries late.

* * *

 _ **Later that day…**_

The trip through the Underground was interesting, to say the least. Since the most recent declaration of war, a great many traps and mazes had been commissioned to slow down Human invaders. Franklin had studied military strategy briefly while working, and none of them seemed to make much tactical sense. Going up against a single combatant might make them somewhat useful…but not against an army. It was very odd indeed. Then again, he was likely missing something important, so he placed these concerns at the back of his mind and focused on his mission.

Despite what you could see from Waterfall, the castle itself was actually quite small. All of the towers that could be seen from afar had turned out to be nothing more than abandoned residential buildings, save the few that had been commandeered by the royal guard and turned into impromptu barracks. It still didn't do anything to calm Franklin's nerves, though. He still had to come clean about his role in the Prince's demise. In fact, the almost welcoming follow-up to the palace was a little creepy. He slowly continued on towards the main building, two heavily armoured knights at the doorway being his only company for what seemed like miles.

"Halt!" the knight on the left barked, steeping forwards and planting his halberd into the ground in front of him. "By order of King Asgore, no civilian personnel are allowed to pass without special cause. State your business." Franklin gulped as the words stuck in his throat. This guy was humungous! He took a deep breath and let the oxygen calm his nerves again.

"I must speak with the King. It is a matter significant importance." He replied, balling his hands into fists to alleviate his stress. The knight stepped back into position and, along with the doppelganger to his right, crossed his weapon in front of the doorway.

"His majesty is currently…indisposed. Return to your home. If the King so chooses to hear your plea, an escort will be dispatched to collect you." Damn! All of this planning, just to get turned away at the gate. It was like a cruel joke.

"You don't understand, It's abou…"

"SILENCE!" Franklin was cut off before he could negotiate any further. "You will leave, now, or we will be forced to arrest you for trespassing!" It was clear that these guards took their role very seriously, and that whatever the King was up to was indeed, very important. But Franklin couldn't wait any longer. He _had_ to get inside and talk with King Asgore. Luckily, he wasn't stupid enough to come unprepared.

He walked back the way he came, turning the corner at the end of the road until he was out of sight. He slipped his hand under his vest and pulled out a small book. He'd been studying this curious little bit of literature for quite some time now, but hadn't really had the chance to use any of the knowledge contained within. Before he'd set out, Franklin had taken care to mark each potentially useful spell or trick; blue tags representing non-confrontational entries and red ones representing combat magics. After seeing the calibre of the King's personal guard, fighting was out of the question. He flicked between blue tags, trying to locate something that might come in handy.

Cloaking? Unreliable. Maybe charms? Too risky. Mind control? Perhaps that's going a little too far. Teleportation? Hmm…that could work, if he could remain unseen. Going from roof to roof, he might actually be able to pull it off. He read the passage, making sure not to miss anything out. The last thing he needed right now was to burst into flames…again…because of vague instructions. Thankfully, the author of this collection wasn't one for leaving out details. Franklin, after finishing his quick study, slapped the book closed and cricked his neck. Here went nothing.

He closed his eyes and focused on a patch of ground a few meters away. There was a sudden, disorienting jerk forwards and when he opened his eyes again, there he was, right where he'd been focusing on. Alright, test run was a success. Let's try something a little farther away. He focused on the roof of a building overlooking the walkway towards the palace. This time, there was a tingle in his extremities, like static electricity, that accompanied the disorienting forwards motion.

One by one, Franklin warped across the rooftops surrounding the palace looking for an opportunity to get inside. Failing to find any side-entrances, he made the bold decision to warp onto the palace itself and see if he could drop down into an open plaza, or sneak through a window. With a blue flash, he teleported onto one of the spires, just barely grabbing hold of it and saving himself from a grizzly end. Then he saw it. His only way in, _and_ exactly where he wanted to be. A large garden area, the centre of which was covered in yellow flowers. He paused and let the significance of this sink in. This was possibly the end of a very, very long quest.

He warped down and quietly made his way to the flower patch. He hadn't returned here since that fateful day. Since he first made his promise. But something was amiss. As he got closer, he could see that the flowerbed was missing a portion from its centre…right where the boy's remains had been. On closer inspection, the dirt here seemed disturbed, but not by any regular means. Instead of being pulled up, it looked as if the soil had been dragged down, almost like a miniature sinkhole. Whatever had happened, the flowers, and by attachment the child's soul, were gone. After hundreds of years, Franklin had failed his mission. He dropped to his knees in disbelief. He'd failed…and in doing so doomed this innocent child to his fate, not to mention that he'd given reason for the royal family to continue on in their grief. Franklin was lost for thought as he rose back to his feet. If only he'd been here sooner.

The sound of heavy, armour-clad footsteps snapped Franklin back to reality. Quickly, he turned and teleported back to the rooftops just before the guard marched into the garden. Now what would he do? He couldn't speak with the King anymore, because there was no way to save his child. Franklin wanted to scream and hit something until it stopped twitching. He wasn't angry at the child, though. He was angry at himself. Blood boiling at his own failure, he began to make his way back home. He turned to warp to the next roof, but stopped himself and turned back to the palace…

…he didn't know why…but he had the feeling that he was being watched…

* * *

 _ **Following the final battle and the Monster's return to the surface…**_

He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't have lived through it. Trapped inside that damned flower, then used as a weapon. Franklin was both intrigued and in shock. If it wasn't for his naturally human soul, he would have been absorbed just like everyone else had been. And that kid in the striped shirt! How the hell did he manage to defeat that…demon!? He barely scratched the thing. At least Asriel got the chance to destroy the barrier. Now the Monsters were _really_ home. But he was ultimately still trapped in that demented plant.

It had been a while since Franklin had given his plans any revision, but now was the time. He'd either rip Asriel's soul out of Flowey's body or die trying. This was going to be one hell of a fight. He hadn't brushed up on his swordsmanship for a while now. Not since his last visit to the royal gardens. He'd just...given up after that. But now he had hope, if not just a fool's hope.

Now he had determination!

Franklin had tracked the little yellow weed through the now abandoned underground for years, and now he had the bastard cornered. He grasped the handles of the swords he had on either side of his belt and kept his eyes open.

"You know me, demon!" he exclaimed into the darkness. There was a pause, then something small scurried through the earth behind him.

"That, I do." Came the reply, a yellow flower sporting some very unsettling facial features sprouting up from the ground. "Look at you, trying to save the brat's soul. So…stupid." Franklin drew his swords and pointed them at Flowey, prompting the little devil to duck into the soil and pop up behind him again.

"He's stronger than you are. Than you've ever been. You don't have any real power left, do you?" He goaded, getting a contorted, angry look from Flowey. "You're nothing. I'm going to tear his soul right out of you." The flower chuckled darkly as his face began to morph into something nightmarish.

"Is that so?" it laughed, the ground around it churning. Perhaps Franklin's observation may have been made prematurely. The dirt erupted as two giant, root-like tentacles rippled out of the ground, adorned with long, serrated thorns. The four-armed monster growled in frustration. He knew it would be a hard fight, but this was a whole different level of difficult. "Oh-ho-ho! I do love the look on your face. Is that a touch of fear I detect? Hehehehe…"

Franklin took a step forwards, which put an end to Flowey's trash-talking. He looked the devil right in the eyes and took another step forwards, a familiar warmth filling his chest. The flower grinned and lifted its appendages, ready to strike. Franklin didn't stop. He gripped his swords harder and walked faster, letting his pace increase until he was running. This was it! This was his chance to save that poor, beaten child! This was his chance to rectify the mistakes of the past!

Flowey laughed maniacally and struck downwards with both roots, but hit nothing. Franklin wasn't one to forget his studies, and for almost three years, fighting with this devil was almost all he could think about. He was going to use every advantage he could. Warping from side to side, he stabbed at the tentacles, getting a pained shout from Fowey in return. The flower growled and ripped its weapons from the ground, swinging them at Franklin as he teleported across the battlefield, trying to predict his movements. But to no avail. Franklin was just too fast for the magically diminished plant, and having a soul fighting against you from the inside only made things more irritating.

Again, the roots came down with a mighty 'CRASH', throwing rocks and debris high into the air. The four-armed hero warped to the largest chunks of debris as cover and threw his swords, impaling the tentacles to the ground before recalling them and throwing both at the flower himself. Flowey ducked back into the ground, narrowly avoiding decapitation, and then popped back up again under Franklin. Ripping the roots out of the soil again, he finally got the jump on the tricky little idiot, slapping him to the side, hard.

Franklin landed into the dirt and bounced a few times due to the inertia caused by the hit. He was sure he'd broken something, if the pain in his ribs was any indication. He called is weapons to his hands and shakily returned to his feet. This thing was _far_ from powerless. He'd barely had time to plan his next attack when some smaller roots shot up from under his feet and wrapped around his arms and legs, holding him in place. The yellow flower popped up a few meters away.

"Aww, and you were doing so well, too." Flowey boasted, the two large roots emerging behind him like spears, trained on Franklin's head. "Such a shame. You can only blame yourself." The large roots shot forwards, but stopped short of Franklin's head as Flowey gave out a frustrated shout. It turned to a painful one as the roots around Franklin's arms rotted away, freeing him from bondage.

"Looks like you're having some trouble there." He said with a smirk, beads of sweat starting to form on Flowey's face. The ex-Human Monster threw down his swords and closed his eyes. "Here, allow me to help you with that." Flowey panicked and fought as hard as he could to spear this jerk before he could save the prince. Again, he gave out a pained cry as Asriel's semi-freed soul held him back.

Franklin concentrated harder than he had ever done before. There was no way he'd be able to kill Flowey. He was still way to powerful. So he improvised. He needed more power to pull off his makeshift plan. He delved into the deepest part of himself and attempted to tap into his long-chained soul. Things grew colder…and colder. He became numb to the world around him, and then was hit by the most incredible surge of energy he'd ever felt. The eye on his forehead opened, blue balefire emanating from its bright blue cornea.

Flowey groaned painfully as he felt his resident soul being pulled from his tiny body. This was impossible! He was a God, yet he was defeated by the willpower of two children! This couldn't be happening! There was a sharp pain as the little heart formed outside of him and slowly floated over to its saviour. He looked at it as it disappeared into Franklin's chest.

"I'll…I'll destroy you…and everything you hold dear…" he wheezed, the large roots crumbling away into dust. "…I'm going to make…you suffer! And then…I'm going to kill everyone else…just because I can!" Franklin returned to normal, if not a little more energetic thanks to the young soul now residing within him.

"Because you can? You can't do anything anymore. You're all washed up, weed." He replied, picking up his swords and sheathing them. Flowey growled, then wilted with something akin to a whimper. Franklin shook his head and turned, walking away and leaving the devil defeated. Now he had a new mission; find Asgore and Toriel and give them back their son. To do it, he'd have to…to…um…?

…Damn it, not this again…

…Evidently, there really _is_ no rest for the weary...

* * *

 _Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter everyone. Work's kind of getting in the way of things, so it might be a little while before the next couple of chapters show up._

 _Anyways, for you guys and gals who like the idea of connecting theme music to stories, the theme I used for inspiration (primarily for the fight at the end) was TheFatRat – Xenogenesis metal cover by Vincent Moretto, courtesy of everyone's favourite video streaming site._

 _Also, if you spotted the Easter egg I've put in this chapter, leave a message and receive a call out! (yippee, hooray, and other celebratory noises!)_

 _Until next time, buh-bye!_


End file.
